


And a Very Happy Birthday It Was

by notenoughtogivebread



Series: Klaine Advent 2016 [7]
Category: Glee
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, M/M, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26432125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughtogivebread/pseuds/notenoughtogivebread
Summary: Blaine's first birthday in New York as a married man. Just 2,000+ words of unbearable fluff. Written for Klaine Advent 2016 prompt: guess.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Series: Klaine Advent 2016 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1078995
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	And a Very Happy Birthday It Was

It had, in all seriousness, been Blaine’s best birthday ever, this first as a married man. Kurt had woken him, not with kisses but with the smell of his famous overnight French toast casserole and with a cup of dark roast coffee made from the beans Kurt bought at the coffee shop near NYADA. Well, Blaine made sure there were kisses then, but soon Kurt was pulling him out of bed and down the hallway to his office alcove. “Look, Blaine. Our tree is blossoming for you.”

The single branch that arched past the window was covered in pink blossoms. “Looks like it’s a cherry tree,” Blaine exclaimed. “I win the bet!” 

“What bet?” 

“When he helped us move in, Sam said crab apple. They had one in the backyard of their old house. But cherries SMELL better,” he said, pushing up the window. He wasn’t met with a scent of blossoms, but rather with the noise of the traffic on the busy street outside. Still, it felt like all of nature—or at least this corner of New York—was giving him a birthday greeting. 

Kurt pressed a handmade card into his hands where he sat at his bright little desk and ran off to turn the bacon. 

* * *

Inside the card was a handmade gift certificate good for lunch with Elliott at Bareburger, and Elliott had invited some of Blaine’s pals from the Musical Theory class they had somehow ended up taking together (Blaine suspected Kurt’s hand in that).

So lunchtime was ridiculous fun, with Nolan beatboxing for the stupidest birthday song ever. And balloons. There were balloons. Elliott made sure to add lots of “Blaine’s birthday” photos to his Snap story all through lunch, reading aloud Kurt’s comments, which were posted practically instantaneously with the pics. 

Blaine’s afternoon was spent in the theatre lab, working on scenes from Moliere, and his acting muscles—and his real muscles—felt well-stretched by the end of the day in the best way. It gave him plenty to think about on the subway and enabled him to ignore the strange looks at his balloon bouquet. Well, most of the looks. One little guy asked him why he had balloons and then solemnly announced that it was his birthday too—well, soon. When the boy’s mother laughed, Blaine held two balloons out to her. Happiness was meant to be shared after all. 

When he came up from underground and caught the bus for the last bit of his trip, he thought of a missing ingredient to make his day perfect. Sam answered his call on the first ring. 

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” 

“Nah, nah, bud. I’m just going through some sheet music for our end-of-year recital. It’s not Nationals but, you know, I want to find songs that make all of my seniors shine. And have fun.” 

“You want to bounce some ideas off me? Need me to work on some arrangements?” 

“Thanks for the offer. I may take you up on that. But—not today. Did you think I forgot? Dude!” 

He was warmed by his friend’s enthusiasm. The people sitting around him must have thought he was a loon, as he sat holding his red balloons, grinning into the phone while Sam played Happy Birthday on his old guitar. But he didn’t care. 

His friend kept him company all the way down to the end of their block. And when he got out at the little bodega, ending his call as he stepped off the bus, Mrs. Martinez ran to the door of the shop with a bunch of daffodils. 

“Your _novio_ said it was your birthday. _Feliz cumple._ ” 

“Thank you. _Gracias._ I love daffodils! It’s late, but I think it’s finally spring, no?” he asked. “Did you see that the cherry tree has blossomed?” 

She didn’t seem to be much in the mood for conversation; she merely patted his cheek and ducked back into the store. He stood looking after her for a moment, saw her slip her phone out of her apron pocket as she did so; he could see the telltale signs of one of Kurt’s surprises. He smiled and turned away, just as her grandchildren, who were supposed to be doing their homework in the back of the shop, spilled out of the door and ran out to accompany him home, singing him down the block. 

* * *

He was bursting to tell Kurt all about his wonderful day as he got through the apartment door, but his husband didn’t greet him. Instead, he heard murmuring from behind their closed bedroom door. Blaine reined in his enthusiasm and knocked on the door. 

“Oh! I’ll be right out!” Kurt yelled, a little frantically. Blaine grinned, thinking, “Well, I know where the surprise is now,” and retreated down the short hall to put the daffodils in water. 

The rice cooker burbled away on the counter, and the kitchen was full of the heavenly aroma of Thai red curry, being kept warm on the stove. He pulled down the vase the Pierces had mailed them for a wedding gift, and fussed a bit, trying to get the flowers to stand just right. As he carried them to place them on top of their old upright piano by the front window, a thump and a quiet curse came from the bedroom. Blaine grinned in anticipation. 

He had just pulled out a wooden spoon to sample the curry when Kurt appeared in the kitchen doorway, dragging the last couple of theballoons, which had slipped away from Blaine’s grasp, and calling out in a too-bright voice, “Happy birthday, husband of mine!” 

Blaine turned, the spoon halted halfway to his mouth. This was the best present of the day so far. Kurt had clearly dressed for dinner. He wore a garment-dyed gray shirt and tight gray trousers, the waist cinched with a light blue waistcoat. “It is, you know—one of the happiest ever,” he said, dropping the spoon in the sink and pulling Kurt close to kiss him hello. 

“Lunch looked like fun.” 

“It was. But you know what’s the best part of my day of all?” 

“Hmm?” Kurt hummed, nuzzling behind Blaine’s ear. 

He pushed away to hold Kurt at arm’s length, looking him up and down. “Coming home to my beautiful husband.” 

Kurt beamed. “You hungry?” 

“Yeah, but—I feel underdressed. AND in need of a shower. Do you mind if I dress for dinner?” 

“Do I mind—as if I’d ever mind dressing you up?” Kurt replied, pushing Blaine into the hallway before he realized his error. 

“Wait! Wait!” he called, jostling past Blaine to block their bedroom door. “How about you get in the shower and I pick out something nice for you to wear?” 

Blaine drew back, then with a wicked smile, said, “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. You’ve done quite enough, cooking that nice meal. I’ll only be a sec,” and reached around Kurt to grasp the doorknob. 

“I only ordered takeout from Queen’s Orchid. I just added some veggies and some nice shrimp from Mr. Chao’s to stretch it. It’s no trouble, really.” And he stepped to block Blaine again. 

“You’re not going to tell me what’s in the bedroom, are you?” 

“Nothing’s in the bedroom. Well, except our bed. And your clothes. I was thinking—those new black trousers, maybe that wonderful slouchy red cardigan?” 

“Are you gonna make me guess?” 

Kurt relaxed and leaned against the door. “Do you want to guess?” 

“What do I get if I do?” 

“What do you get— You are the greediest birthday boy ever. Pammy was right.” 

Blaine chuckled. “How are we going to do this? 20 Questions?” 

“What _you’re_ going to do is take a shower,” Kurt answered, pushing his husband into the tiny bathroom. “I'm going to pick out your clothes, and you are going to let your long-suffering Kurt finish his preparations!” 

Ten minutes later, Blaine returned to the kitchen. Kurt had placed the food in serving dishes on the table and had poured the wine. The last balloons were tied to the back of his chair, and there was a pile of wrapped presents on the half wall. Another, big box sat on the coffee table in their tiny living room. 

“Kurt. This is so festive.” 

Kurt was much more relaxed, now that he had gotten things back under control. He swept his hand down Blaine’s back. “Take your seat, birthday boy.” 

“Oh. You remembered Tina’s happy birthday plate.” 

“Like I’d ever live it down if I forgot,” Kurt said drily. “Traditions are important to you, after all.” 

Blaine stopped to take a picture of it for Instagram, making sure to share it with Tina, and then they sat and talked through their days, their conversation occasionally interrupted by small sounds from the living room. Kurt didn’t seem to hear them, though, and the dinner and the company were so good, Blaine let it pass. 

Dinner over, Kurt stood to get coffees and the birthday cake he had somehow secretly baked. “You should open your presents. I suspect that top one will go with what you’re wearing.” 

Eager, Blaine half-stood to pull down the small box with a gift tag in his dad’s neat script, looking forward to a new bow tie. He was puzzled when he heard the noise again, and he glanced toward the coffee table. “Kurt? Why is my present moving? And making noises? Oh, my God. There’s something ALIVE in there.” 

He turned, his eyes wide. Kurt was frozen in the middle of the kitchen, holding a small birthday cake. 

“Maybe? Don’t you want to blow out your candles first?” 

Blaine took the cake from Kurt and laid it carefully on the table. “It’s a beautiful cake. And I’ll bet it’s my favorite.” 

“Your Grandmother Anderson’s German chocolate.” 

“OMG, yes,” he said, kissing his husband quickly. “But the cake can wait. Whatever’s in there might not.” He took Kurt’s hand and dragged him into the living room. 

“I wanted you to open your other presents first,” Kurt protested. 

Blaine stood, his hands on the gift box, hesitant. “But it’s okay that there’s a change in plans, right?” 

“I thought that he would stay asleep. He was so active all afternoon.” 

The box lurched at their voices and emitted a panicky “mwowr.” 

Blaine leapt to tear the paper, but Kurt stayed his hand and lifted up the box to reveal a tiny blue-eyed Siamese kitten. 

Blaine sank to the floor and reached for the tiny animal. “Kurt. You—you got me a friend!” 

“Is it okay?” 

The kitten burrowed into Blaine’s lap, chirruping and complaining. His heart swelled at the sight, at the tiny weight, at the kneading of the sharp claws. “He’s perfect.” 

Kurt slowly knelt down next to him and scratched behind the kitten’s ears. “It was Brittany’s idea. When she called on Valentines? I might have let on that I was worried you’d be lonely with me working nights come summer. She was already on it, though. She said Lord Tubbington was insistent. And he seemed to know where this kitten had been born and when, which is sort of—” 

“It’s sort of how Lord Tubbington is, Kurt. It’s best to just go with it.” 

“I was going to get you—I don’t know. Musical staff paper. Bowties. Bowties with musical staffs on them. But he—” 

“What’s his name?” 

“Oh. He’s your kitten. You should name him.” 

As he gazed into the startling blue eyes of the little cat, Blaine knew that there was really only one name he was considering. Last May, when he was still spending almost his entire day in his room, his dad had gotten Mama a lovely silky-eared King Charles Cavalier spaniel bitch for a Mother’s Day gift. In an almost transparent attempt to get Blaine interested in—well, anything—she’d included Antoinette Perry in her long AKC name, and they called her Tony. (Short for, “C’mon, Blaine. Life isn’t over quite yet. Performance—and awards—can still be yours.”) She soon became a favorite of everyone, including Blaine’s dog Merry. 

“Oscar. His name is Oscar.” 

“Oh. I thought he looked like a Pippin. You know, continue your hobbit theme.” 

“We’ll name your kitten Pippin.” 

“Which kitten would that be?” 

“The one I get you when you find your corner of the sky on Broadway.” 

Kurt brought over the cake and the presents, poured out coffees for the two of them, and lit the candles, and they had his birthday party right there on the living room floor. Blaine didn’t think anyone in the history of New York City had ever had a better. He wanted to go to bed and live this day over and over again. Laughing fondly with Kurt as Oscar pounced at wrinkles in the discarded wrapping paper, he realized that, with this beautiful, thoughtful husband by his side, there was a good chance that that’s exactly what he was going to do.


End file.
